Love Me Forever
by House-less
Summary: 'Hold me in your arms and our doubts won't break us.' Second part to Love Me Tonight. Also smutty, but it's not really smut when it's lovemaking. Huddy. Post 'Joy'.


Hi,

This is the second part of ''Love Me Tonight''. It takes place the second LMT ends, so reading it first is highly recommended.

I want to thank MissVengerberg for proposing me to write a second part and my friend (you know yourself) for somehow inspiring me this. So thank you!

The summary is inspired from one of Bruce Springsteen's songs. So thanks to him, too.

Finally, thank you for reading and reviewing, you rock :)

Love Me Forever

 _Love me forever._

Her lips are sealed but her eyes are screaming louder than her mouth could've ever had. He always can read through her and, sometimes, he wished he couldn't. And this time is one of those times he wants to be blind and see nothing in her light-green eyes. Because it means that this time, he's in a vulnerable state, too. And he's tore between the possibilities that are offered to him.

And here she is, the reason of her came obvious in her eyes. He's insecure about its outcomes, but he knows he wants the changing it'd bring. He doesn't like the unknowns, and yet ...

With a smirk, he moves aside to make her room to enter. She doesn't move until he puts a hand on her waist, under her white jacket and pulls her inside the apartment. ''When I said 'tomorrow', it was a metaphor,'' he tells her, closing the door behind her. She leans over it.

''It's cold there,'' she says, a wave of sadness and desperation ravaging her eyes. He knows it's not the weather she's talking about.

She spent the day at her villa, drinking liters of tea and fighting back tears every ten minutes. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't as hard as it turned when the light of the day vanished. It brought back all the memories of the previous afternoon, making the air toxic. All she wanted to remember was the comfort she found with him, but her house didn't seem to cooperate. Everything in it, every corner held a memory that torn her apart.

''How are you?'' he asks, looking deeply into her eyes. His hand is still on her waist.

''Can we talk later?'' she demands, biting her lower lip as it starts to shake.

He slowly nods, looking at her, watching her next move. She sees apprehension and maybe hesitation in his questioning gaze. ''I still want you,'' she murmurs in an attempt to pull away his doubts. ''Do you?'' she asks, this time nervous, and hesitant as fears shows up in his gaze.

''Come on,'' he almost whispers, his eyes softening in a form of understanding and love.

Their eyes are locked together for a while before he lets his hand fall along her body, finding its place against his thigh. She bits her lip when he breaks eye-contact and limps toward his bedroom without his cane. She barely notices it leaning against the piano bench while she follows him quietly. He doesn't need to look back to see if she's following him, he can feel her. Her presence seems to take a physical form, one he can almost touch.

He's giving her his back when she enters the dark, quiet room. The fact that she's exactly where she wants crosses her mind, and she's overwhelmed by the feeling of security it brings.

Shadows are falling all over his back, on his white T-shirt and his silhouette is strong and uncertain in the dark. She carefully makes the last steps that separate them, he doesn't move. She closes her eyes and gently places her hands beneath his T-shirt, caresses slowly the small of his back before they travel to the muscles of his abdomen. She feels him shiver beneath her touch and it only causes a frisson run down her spine. Her forehead is pressed to his back. ''I'm lonely...'' she finds herself murmuring.

He knew things about loneliness. He gently stops her hand when it reaches his groin and turns to face her. His gaze is locked to hers, reflecting the doubts and emotions of the previous night. In one motion, as he did the night before, he leans over her and kisses her, closing his eyes the moment their lips touch. He doesn't know how to deal with her with words, so he'll show her with acts, again.

Slowly, they undress, as if they are giving time to each other to step back and end the whole thing if they change their mind. But neither of them does. Each move is punctuated with a caress, a kiss or simply an understanding look. She moans softly against his skin and he gets lost in the want of her and the desire she expresses by sucking on his lower lip everytime they kiss.

He wants to pull away when she starts to slide his pajama pants down his legs, but he realizes that he doesn't mind showing her his scar. She's let him see the wounds of her soul. And no physical injury can be compared to that. The last fabric falls on the floor.

They remain silent as he lays her down on the bed, claiming her lips as he lays on top of her, careful not to hurt her by pressing all his weight on her petite frame. They make the moment last as long as their bodies allow them to, lips grazing against each other and hands free to discover very unknown places.

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily and, as he looks down at the breathless woman beneath him, he thinks he wouldn't stand the wait any longer. He once again leans over her and captures her lips in an umpteenth kiss, all tender and passionate at the same time. Her response is immediate, full of want and need, in contrary to what she's shown the night before. She seems more confident, more... recollected. But he know it's only a facade.

Another kiss is shared, their eyes are closed, as if by doing so, the intensity of what they feel would increase. And it does. The intimacy they allow each other is almost destabilizing them. He's obliged to break the kiss again, sighing deeply against her lips. It sounds like a groan, pleasure and lust almost unbearable and painful. He puts a trail of kisses along her jaw and downward, his breath causing the shivers to intensify.

''Hey,'' she gently calls him when he starts going down on her. ''It's not all about me.'' She smiles at him, her hands on his shoulders stopping him from moving further. He opens his mouth to say something but she's faster, ''I want you..'' She urges him to come back and kiss her before she whispers against his mouth, ''..inside me.''

And he's inside her. He moves slowly to give her the time to acclimate to his presence, fighting back the urge to thrust into her warm core everytime she clenches her inner muscles around him.

She closes her eyes, her back is arched and all her body is trembling in the first second she feels him, and the feelings only go increasing with every movement as the rhythm slowly becomes faster, but not less tender.

''I will ...'' she manages to pronounce, too lost in the increasing and violent waves of pleasure submerging her. ''Come on,'' she says, caressing his cheek and driving him in one last and long kiss as all her muscles tense and her toes curl up as she reaches the edge, saying his name in a breath.

He makes inhuman noises he doesn't try to repress as he fills her, warm and slow. Her own orgasm makes him cum too when she tenses around him. The intensity of the moment is such that his climax almost makes her orgasm again. Almost. Instead, she bursts into tears at the dark thought that crosses her mind: she was ovulating, and he didn't use protection. It was unnecessary, after all.

''Did I ...'' he says, pulling away as she cries harder. He isn't pressing his body entirely on hers, but he didn't move far enough to break the body-contact. Her reaction surprises him at the first place, but then he realizes... What if she is feeling exploited? What if he _did_ exploit her weakness?

''No... No. It's not your fault,'' she suddenly says, her sobs becoming quite and almost stop. ''You're great and I'm ... I am such a failure.''

He breathes and feels guilty about the relief that submerges him as he acknowledges that she's not hurting because of him. He swallows the feelings for the moment, to be here for her.

 _To be here for her._

He doesn't give himself the time to think about when he started to have such thoughts. He realizes he's taken place beside her on the bed. As if he was scared of her. _Of hurting her._ She's laying on her back, the covers on her shoulders because she's cold. Her voice is trembling but she's not crying anymore.

''You're not the one who retracted. And for that, you're not a failure.''

She looks up at him, her eyes threatening to moisten again. He's sitting at her left, his back against the headboard and the blanket is covering his legs, leaving his chest bare. He's looking at her, too.

''If I could've conceived the damned baby, I wouldn't have needed to put my fate in a teenager's hands. Why nothing I want ever works?'' she says, anger and frustration in her voice. She looks away.

He's silent for a moment, thinking about what would be his next words. ''If you bribe me with daily sex, I can manage to make this work.'' She looks at him in the right time to see him gesturing to the space between them. ''Every two days?'' he proposes when she doesn't answer.

''Why are you doing this?''

His sole response is to bring her closer to him, his hand sliding beneath her back to circle her body. She doesn't protest, and if she's surprised, she doesn't show anything. Actually, it feels so natural it scares them both.

''Shut up,'' he says. And silence fills the dark room for a moment.

''House?'' she murmurs in an hesitant voice, after a while.

''Hum?'' his sleepy voice comes.

''Can I stay?'' she asks, her voice less shaky now. She's resting her head on his bare chest, looking up at him.

 _Forever?_

He's silent for a moment, thinking of what it'd involve and how ready he is for that. Finally, he nods, making it an nonchalant motion, but they both know its meaning. ''Yes.''

The End.


End file.
